


Let It Rot (Like the Corpses and Their Flowers)

by Le_kunokimchi



Series: The "What If" Syndrome [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Hargreeves Deserves Better, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Season/Series 01, typical klaus tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24958186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: Fate and luck play a devious game, a game he was made a witness of without even being given a rule book.He watches the moves as they're played, he's haunted by the outcomes... And, unfortunately, he has yet to be given a turn.But like any typical board game, strategies are picked up through trial and error, quick thinking, and studying of your opponent; sometimes, even losing is an order.OR the one where Number Four has a much bigger burden than just communicating with the dead.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Original Character(s), Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: The "What If" Syndrome [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806406
Comments: 38
Kudos: 227





	1. Cordially Yours

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't normally do chaptered work but I felt inspired.  
> I don't normally write AUs so that's why I'm hesitant to share this but... Klaus has a secondary power that basically affects the whole course of the story; I shall spoiler no more!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate's a sadist

> _One, two…_ _plop!_

The boy frowned, picking up another rock and flicking his wrist.

> _One, two, three…_ _plop!_

It skipped across the top of the water before disappearing beneath the surface; he’ll try one more time. He’s only got one ‘perfect skipping rock’ (as Ben had called it earlier) left so he had to make it count. 

> _One, two, three, four…_ _plop!_

Ah, lucky number four. That would do, he supposes. Although he would have much preferred six or Ben’s record of eleven; maybe even twelve so he could rub it in his brother’s face.

But this was numbly fitting. 

“Hey, K-Klaus? You d-down here?” a voice asked from higher up the bank, “D-Dad said it’s time for bed.”

The boy stood and wiped his hands on his uniform shorts before bending down to pick up the long black gloves that were folded neatly at his feet. He slipped them on and threw a grin at his second favorite sibling.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

~^~

  
  


He felt the life get sucked out of him as soon as he stepped foot back into camp. He never thought he’d say it but he longed to be back at the mansion; a warm room and comfy bed were calling his name. Camping sucked: it was dirty and cold and honestly astonishing at how many people died in the mountains. Maybe it’d be more enjoyable if they were in an actual campground rather than some random spot in the middle of the woods. There were probably three species of bears here and at least two packs of wolves; not to mention the thousands of creepy-crawlies littering the ground and trees. Can you even imagine how many possible ways a person could die here?

He knew he’d probably like the experience better if he had some weed with him.

Truthfully, the worst part was that they weren’t doing this for leisure. They had a rough mission earlier that day and didn’t quite make it home before sundown. Everybody was sore, tired, and crabby (except for Vanya because she wasn’t invited), Klaus included, but the idea of being stuck in an area with their father at arms reach and not being able to kick the crap out of him was suffocating. At least at the academy, he had the luxury of closing his door. Here he had a small paper-thin tent. A small paper-thin tent he had to share with Luther. 

At times like these, he wished he had a nice pair of tits; then he wouldn’t be permitted to sleep in the same enclosed area as his brother. Alas, only Allison had been granted such a blessing.

“Number Four,” a stern voice commanded.

On cue, the boy cringed inwardly. That tone meant one of two things; either Klaus was crying again or he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. And since his eyes were painfully dry, that could only mean the latter.

Klaus put on his best serious face (slightly shaky and uncomfortable from nerves) before turning to face his father. “Yes, s-sir?” 

‘To face’ the man was a relative term; Klaus never really looked anyone in the eye. His gaze tended to drift upwards, right above people’s heads. It drove his father up the wall; something about ‘look at me when I’m talking to you, you miserable little shit-’ Well, no, his father would never say that to them- directly at least. The attention-grabbing crack of his cane against the ground was a rough translation though. Speaking of which, he just heard the cane thud against the dirt; he should probably look at his face now. 

“I thought I gave clear instructions that wandering within the area beyond the campsite was forbidden, did I not?” Reginald questioned with that all too familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. Four’s gaze dulled a bit but it was nothing he wasn’t already accustomed to by now.

“You did but-”

“So please share why you chose to blatantly disregard a direct order and took it upon yourself to go down to the lake?” His glare was cold and unforgiving, making Klaus’s skin crawl. 

_‘You say please now?’_ he wanted to scoff. 

He opened his mouth to answer but then his father advised, “And make it a good one, Four. I am not in the mood for your stupidity or disobedience.”

_‘Ouch, how do you really feel?’_ If it wasn’t daddy dearest that he was speaking to, he would have totally said something along the lines of ‘Your mom looked a little lonely, I thought I’d help keep her warm and occupied’ or ‘I was talking to the bodies of the last children you brought here and drowned in the lake. I mean, it’s off-limits for a reason, right?’ Too bad he was too sober to ignore the ache of being whacked over the head with an old man’s cane. 

“Well, you see… I had to use the bathroom and, I don’t know about you, but dropping my fly right in front of my sister seemed mildly inappropriate,” the boy lied nonchalantly with an innocent smile before mentally adding a quiet _‘No offense Luther.’_ The comment, even though it was said completely in his head (he’s pretty sure it was at least), made him snicker softly to himself.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about your statement, Number Four,” his father reprimanded with a confused scowl.

_‘Oopsies… guess I wasn’t so subtle; it’s not my fault that I’m a comedian.’_

“Oh uh, it was nothing sir. My mind wandered a bit; it won’t happen again,” he replied smoothly, blinking up at the top of his head again (he had a short attention span, sue him) because life always seemed a little more interesting up there.

His father just peered down at him, most likely debating whether to scold him or send him to bed. By the look of exhausted irritation in his eyes, it was most likely the latter.

The man muttered, “Retire to your assigned tent,” before swiftly walking away.

Klaus visibly relaxed, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He watched him go, taking in every detail of the pale halo effect above his father’s head. For once, he wished that the flicker would disappear, but then again, he’d be stranded in the woods because none of them can drive. 

~^~

Number One talked in his sleep. He talked _a lot._

Every time Klaus even thought about closing his eyes, his brother would begin flapping his gums. Sure, hearing people discuss their deepest, darkest secrets in their sleep was cool, but Luther was not doing that at all. Instead, he mumbled stuff like “I’m the leader” or “Listen to me” or “Call me Space Boy”; even “Yes, Dad”.

Nothing juicy, nothing entertaining; only lame, typical Number One sayings that would be blabbed if he was awake so it quickly lost its appeal.

It wasn’t funny anymore; Four was tired. He wanted to sleep. (Just let him sleep, please.)

So… the talking was bad. Klaus thought that it couldn’t get any worse.

But because fate kind of strongly disliked him, it turns out Luther likes to fight in his sleep too…

And since super strength plus unconscious actions was literally a recipe for disaster, Klaus made the executive decision to get the hell out of the tent before his brother broke one of his ribs. 

Who needs sleep anyways, right?

He found himself tiptoe back down to the lake, using the light of the full moon to guide his way to the water’s edge. 

His gloves felt itchy. He never really liked trying to sleep with them on. His hands sweat too much and the thick material would stick to awkward places, not to mention that sleeping with a cold body but having damp hands was beyond uncomfortable. 

It’s not like he could take them off with Luther laying next to him, though. He really couldn’t afford to have vision after vision throughout the night anytime they accidentally made contact; it was draining and definitely not something one would want to see as they’re fading in and out of the dream realm.

“Wow, I didn’t think Luther’s snores were _that_ bad.”

Klaus felt a grin bloom across his face instantly at the sound of his brother’s voice. 

“He snores _too_?” 

They shared a laugh as Number Six sat down next to him on the lakeside. 

“So…” he drawled, looking over at Ben, “I’m guessing Diego wasn’t much better?”

“Can you believe that he sleeps with a knife?” Ben ranted, throwing his hands up in the air, “And I thought Dad was the paranoid one!” 

The other snorted, easily imagining their brother holding any sort of sharp object while he sleeps. 

“Yeah, I can see that; he’s got some strange fetishes but it beats wanting to sleep with our sister, right?” He snickered devilishly, never able to get over the incest jokes. Who would have thought that they’d never get old? (In reality, they got old; really old. Klaus was really the only one who found them funny.)

Ben shook his head at the reminder, a fond smile still on his face. “Oh man, poor Luther. He must have really annoyed you, huh?”

“The dude doesn’t shut up! And then he started swinging fists; like hell I’m gonna stick around!”

“At least he’s not a sleep-cuddler…”

“No way… Diego? Really?” His eyebrows rose in surprise. He definitely didn’t expect that one. 

“Yep. He was practically glued to my side,” Ben said, his eyes taking on a look of fear as he recalled, “I wouldn’t have minded so much if it wasn’t for the possibility of being stabbed in the middle of the night.” 

Klaus huffed a laugh, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “It seems, mi Hermano, we both got the short end of the stick.”

“When do we not?”

They both fell silent for a little while, the Asian resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

> When they were little, Klaus used to hold Ben’s wrist whenever they were together. He liked to feel his brother’s pulse; it was a subtle assurance that he was alive and not another one of the ghosts clouding Klaus’s vision. It was comforting. Just like his brother’s warmth reminded him that he wasn’t in the realm of the dead, that the ghosts were the trespassers… not him. 
> 
> But since his gloves dulled his sense of touch, he can’t get the same comfort for obvious reasons. Now, they sit like this: an arm around his brother and a shoulder for him to lean on. He listens to Ben’s breathing and relaxes under the gentle caress of Ben’s breath upon his neck. It’s... enough. 

The reflection of the moon danced upon the lake, giving the quiet woods a serene vibe. Crickets chirped in the distance and a slight breeze rustled the trees. Klaus could stay here forever, he decided, if it meant he and Ben could just sit here and enjoy each other’s company without having to worry about their fears and responsibilities. He could sit here, in the cold, dark, ominous forest for all eternity if it meant he wouldn’t have to return to an empty room one day. 

> His whole life has been a dark chamber with scary things lurking in the corners. He may have gotten out of the mausoleum, but in reality, he never really left. The demons haunt his dreams and the ghosts bleed into his existence. There are always unbreakable walls caging him in; whether he’s outside, in the academy, or upon the Eiffel Tower… he is always confined to a limited space, always oppressed from doing what he really wants to do. He has nyctophobia because of the dead, claustrophobia because of the living; on all sides, they clamp down upon him and hold him in place. He suffocates in the dark: alone and afraid. 
> 
> But Ben was a candle: he burned bright in the darkest of hallways and held his hand when the pressure became too much. He warmed away the chill of the death and was a guiding light to refuge. He made the shackles they never wanted, nor asked for, worth it. He made wherever they went a home because home isn’t a place, it’s a person. If he was gone, the academy would just be a house. A cold, quiet house. Another dark chamber.

Klaus thought he was over his thanatophobia, but now he’s not so sure.

“Are you okay?” Six asked softly, his breath fanning across his collar bone, “You’re being quieter than usual.”

“I’m fine, just… thinking.”

“You? Thinking?” the boy snorted, “That’s dangerous.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Klaus replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes even though Ben wouldn’t have been able to see the action. 

“What were you thinking about?” 

A pause. “You.”

Ben shifts to peer at his face. Klaus smiles, refusing to look at him because he knows exactly where his eyes will drift to if he does.

Eventually, Six shakes his head and chuckles, “Idiot,” under his breath.

The boy just smirked slightly in reply.

“So,” the Asian cleared his throat, shifting again to get more comfortable, “Where did you disappear to earlier? You were interrupting my reading one moment and then gone the next.”

“I was down here.”

“Doing what?”

“Skipping rocks.”

“I thought you hated skipping rocks; you literally complain anytime I even suggest doing it.”

“I do- it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“... I just wanted to touch something.”

“Oh.”

Ben pulled away slightly, wanting to gauge his expression. “Like… touching something without the gloves?” he inquired.

“Yeah, I guess I wanted to feel something; like actual textures and temperatures, and rocks are abiotic so…”

Six hummed in thought, now sitting cross-legged beside him. “You know, you always talk to me about the ghosts but you never really open up about your secondary power.”

Klaus gave a half shrug. “It’s just kind of... complicated? It took me a while to understand the simple aspects I’m surrounded with every day and even then, there are still some things I don’t fully get.”

“Well we aren’t going to sleep anytime soon, right? I’ve got time. Maybe trying to explain it out loud will help you organize your thoughts too,” Ben suggested with an encouraging smile. He has always been curious about Klaus’s powers; the boy didn’t tend to go into detail about his experiences which proved to be tricky since his powers weren’t visible to the naked eye like their other siblings’. Six didn’t even understand the whole communicating with the dead thing until a particularly bad session at the mausoleum. 

“I suppose,” Four replied rather reluctantly, shoving his hands into his lap, “What did you want to know?”

“Um, I guess we could start with the gloves…?” Ben seemed surprised with his agreeal but quickly squirmed in excitement, “If that’s okay with you- I mean- you didn’t always wear them so what do they do? Why do you wear them?”

Klaus smiled at his brother’s enthusiasm, glad he could make him giddy about something other than his books.

“When I…” he flexed his hand a few times in his lap, contemplating the best way to word it, “touch living things, I see possible ways they could die; like a vision of sorts. The gloves cover my hands to keep me from getting the visions anytime I make contact with biotic factors.”

“So it’s only your hands?” Six asked, resting his chin in his palm, “Like contact with the rest of your skin doesn’t affect you?”

“As far as I know, yes: I only see things when the bare skin of my hands touch something.”

“Does it work on you? Like can you foresee your own-”

“No,” Four cut in curtly, his eyes darkening as they stared out over the lake. He knew that his brother didn’t deserve such a cold reply but he hoped that Ben would get the message that he didn’t wish to discuss that particular… side effect of his powers and move on to something else.

Ben didn’t need to know; he didn’t want anyone to know that it was awfully hard to foretell something that could possibly never happen.

“O-Oh ok uh…” Six fumbled out awkwardly, feeling guilty for prodding a little too far but trying to rapidly think of a new question before Klaus shut him out again. “You said ‘possible’ ways earlier, right?”

Four stiffened; this was the complicated part. On one hand, Klaus was horrible at explaining things because he had a hard time understanding a lot of things. His mind tends to move faster than his mouth and he gets distracted easily as well as loses interest quickly; overall, not the best at learning. On the other hand, he isn’t big on reading or hearing facts; he needs pictures to keep his attention. He is a visual learner and consequently describes things using a lot of metaphors and analogies. 

But powers had visuals, right? Visuals only he could see... but he just had to explain them! Easy peasy! Hopefully, Ben would kind of get the gist.

“Okay so for that to make sense, I need to explain a really big part of my powers. And warning you now: you’re gonna wanna strap yourself in because this part of the ride is going to get bumpy. Just hang in there with me, alright?” Klaus advised, running a hand through his hair in mental preparation. _‘Metaphors… just think of imagery and metaphors! Literature things, things Ben understands!’_

The other nodded. “Alright. Take your time.”

 _‘Aw he’s so kind and understanding-_ _wait focus, Klaus.’_

“So imagine all life on Earth as a giant game of tic-tac-toe: each box within the hash mark represents a living thing-”

“Jesus... that’s one big board.”

“Ben-”

“Right-! Sorry. Continue.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, not used to Klaus seriously explaining something for once. 

“Well before I was so rudely interrupted,” Six grinned innocently as Four sent him a glare, “Fate plays the X’s and luck subconsciously plays the O’s. Every person has either an X or an O above their head; I sort of play spectator to destiny’s grand game.”

“That sounds kind of silly looking…”

“Okay, well, it’s not like your t-typical letters!” Klaus stammered in embarrassment, “Sorry that I’m trying to figure this analogy out as I go!”

“No, no... you’re doing great, sweetie-”

“I don’t appreciate your tone. Fuck you.”

“Sorry, I’m not Luther-”

“I-” Klaus deadpanned, “Do you want me to explain or not?”

“Yeah, I do. Just… I don’t know, be a little more realistic I guess? It sounds like you’re trying to explain something to a toddler-”

“Alright, alright, shut up,” the boy huffed, crossing his arms and closing his eyes, “Lemme try a different approach.”

  
  


“There’s a pale halo-”

“The… O’s?”

“Yeah, now shut up-”

“Geez, chill, okay.”

“SO- a pale halo-like light that flickers above people’s heads- Hey let’s call them flickers! Perfect, okay um where was I- Oh! Think of them as a pending symbol almost; if you have one of those, there are billions of ways you could die but fate hasn’t played her turn yet so none of them are set in stone. They blink or flicker in and out of existence constantly because each one is a new possible future. I could touch somebody one moment and have a vision of them getting in a car accident but then if I touched them immediately after, I could have a vision of them falling down the stairs.”

Now, Klaus had his brother’s full attention; the Asian was peering at him in interest, leaning forward on his arm with eager ears. There were no more silly comments waiting on the tip of his tongue, just pure curiosity and fascination.

“It might sound scary to know that you could literally die any second of your life, but that’s why I said luck plays the O’s; if you’re really unlucky, you could be struck by lightning or perhaps slip in the shower and crack your head open which are rare to happen to the average person. There are endless possibilities and 99.9% of them come and go without ever affecting you. It’s like you and luck are playing a card game: luck is holding a handful of cards and each of the cards has a different way you could die on it and instead of playing one against you, they just keep shuffling through them. I’m like the cheater standing behind luck: I see all of their cards but I don’t really know which one, if any of them, they’ll play.”

“Dude… that analogy is so much better than the tic-tac-toe one.”

Klaus glared at him and hissed, “I was thinking of the X’s and O’s and it made sense in my head! No one asked you!”

Ben chuckled half-heartedly. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly and a finger tapped on his lip, a quirk Four learned to associate with him being deep in thought.

“So what’s the other 0.1%?” he finally asked.

“Oh uh,” Klaus said as he shifted, shaking off his annoyance and regathering his thoughts, “Luck’s a wildcard so there are some ‘what if’ deaths too. Like one time, when we were little, I saw a vision of Diego going into anaphylactic shock from a bee sting and we didn’t find him in time to save him. So for a while, I was really paranoid about bees and wouldn’t let them anywhere near him and never let him go outside alone.”

“Is that why Mom gave you the nickname ‘Bumble Bee’? Because you used to catch all the bees and move them somewhere else? I honestly would have just whacked them with a newspaper or something and avoided the stings, but you do you I guess.”

“Yeah, it is. They die when they lose their stingers and they die when you whack them so if I had a slim chance of carefully relocating them and having them survive, I took it. But we’re getting off-topic!”

“Sorry-”

“Shush! Anyways, after about three months of watching Diego like a hawk, he got stung by a bee while training in the courtyard early in the morning before anyone woke up. And since he came to breakfast just fine a few hours later, and obviously not experiencing any allergic reaction, I found the ‘if’ loophole in the whole ‘possible ways of dying’. _If_ Diego was allergic to bees, he would have died; it was showing me a possibility that used the unknown to its advantage. But it is confirmed now that he doesn’t have a bee allergy so I won’t ever see that vision again from touching him. The 0.1% would’ve been the worst-case scenario that he actually was allergic.”

Six hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. “That sounds… very stressful: seeing all those possible threats, not really knowing what could actually happen so you choose to try and prevent them all,” he mumbled.

The German nodded because it most definitely was, especially when you are too new to your powers to understand that most of the scenarios would never even happen. He closes his eyes too, remembering the early days where he used to pace all hours of the night, completely overwhelmed with everything that was supposedly going to happen to his siblings and not knowing how to stop all of them or how much time he had left to prepare.

“Dad gave me the gloves when I became paranoid and developed the ‘what if’ syndrome. What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me, he said. At first, I felt guilty for wearing them, like I was wasting the opportunity my powers gave me to save you guys… But after a while, I realized that everybody else lives their life being ignorant to it all and that eventually, death is inevitable so I shouldn’t burden myself with that kind of responsibility.” 

Klaus pauses, releasing a heavy sigh. “I know you don’t like it but... the weed relaxes me and gets rid of the ghosts that scream about how I could have saved them. They call me a murderer for not preventing their deaths or warning them, they call me selfish and cruel…”

“Well that’s dumb,” Ben replied, bumping his shoulder, “How would you have even known what possible future was going to be the one that killed them?”

He opened his eyes, swallowing hard as a grim look crossed his face. This was the more… difficult part of his curse: the ones that are set in stone. The deaths that aren’t flickers; the deaths that are destined.

“Since they’re dead, fate most likely played her turn. Her approach is more strategic, she doesn’t erratically fill in the boxes like luck does.”

“What do you mean?”

Four sighed and scrubbed his eyes in sudden exhaustion. He wanted to tell Ben, he really did, but this part was a bitter pill to swallow.

“So you know how in the beginning I said X’s _and_ O’s?”

“Yeah, in your dumb tic-tac-toe analogy-”

Klaus waved his hand dismissively, “Well while the flickers are like ‘to be determined’, the X’s are… ‘determined’.”

Determined demise.

Determined ending.

The final chapter in one’s book of life… That particular wording made old feelings resurface. He flinched.

> **_‘To whom it may concern-’_ **

He rubs his arm detachedly, staring back over the lake, “Like I said, fate’s strategic. She takes a long time to play her turn but when she does, luck loses; there’s no beating her.”

> **_‘I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend to be strong. I can’t pretend to be more than my demons. I am the demon; the monster and I are one.’_ **

“The vision I get from touching a person with an X over their head is not a possible future, it _is_ their future; it doesn’t change or blink rapidly.”

> **_‘I’m tired of the image I’m supposed to maintain. I want to be a good son. I want to be a good brother. I want to be a good hero. Everybody constantly tells me what they think I want to hear. I don’t want to be told that nothing is ever my fault. I don’t want everyone to think so highly of me.’_ **

“It appears one day as an almost translucent pair of intersecting lines and becomes brighter the closer it gets to the day the vision takes place.”

> **_‘I fear upsetting you all; I fear failure because I’m supposed to be the good: child, sibling, and public figure. I fear the one day where I disappoint you all because you realize that I’m nothing more than a savage beast. I am nothing more than my number.’_ **

"You know how people say that when you die, you see a bright light?"

> **_‘You call me by a name that means ‘good’ and it mocks me. Your expectations are always so high.’_ **

"I bet it’s because the mark is shining so strongly above your head,"

> **_‘So it is time to stop waiting for the day I inevitably fail you all. I will get it over with and then be gone before I can be crushed by the aftermath.’_ **

“-that you see it as your soul slips from your body.”

> **_‘I’m sorry. I won’t ask for your forgiveness. Just know I don’t blame any of you. You all did the best you could, we just have our own problems to deal with now.’_ **

“That’s… dark.” Ben watched him in slight concern, noting that his brother’s tone sounded strained. 

> **_’Just know that I don’t blame you, Klaus. You tried your best. You were a great brother. I love you. I have betrayed you and I don’t deserve to be called a good brother for what I’ve done: I’ve become the one thing you fear the most, huh?’_ **

“But if you know for sure what will happen, then it should be easier to fix it though, right? There’s really no way to prevent it?” 

> **_‘I don’t have the right to tell you to stay off the drugs, I don’t have the right to tell you to stop drinking… But please, don’t join me before it’s your time, okay? I hope one day, you’ll find it in your heart to summon me; you know that I’ll miss you, right?’_ **

“No. There isn’t, I-” His voice cracked as familiar emotions swirled within his chest, as the vision he wished he could forget flooded his head and leaked from his ears. He could hear the sobs, he could hear the gulping of pills, he could hear the thud of a numb body, he could hear the fizzing of froth from trembling lips, he could hear the gasping of a final breath- 

God, he needed some weed, he needed some ecstasy, he needed _something_ … _anything._ Anything that could numb his pain. He needed it. He _really_ needed it.

> **_‘My time has come. The final chapter of my life has come to a close. Good luck with your lives, I’ll always be here… even if you won’t be able to see me.’_ **

He’s getting all worked up over something he should have already come to terms with. He thought he was ready, he thought he was getting better, he thought that he had accepted fate’s unfair game…

But now that he’s talking about it, with Ben of all people, his inner-peace was leaving him. The wound has been reopened; had it truly ever healed?

“I’ve tried… many different ways to prevent it- to at least dull the light and give me more time but-” his voice was barely more than a whisper, “No matter what you do... the vision stays the same. So then you’re just stuck watching it: like it’s a fucking countdown.”

“That sounds horrible,” the other commented, his face a mix of horror and discomfort, “Could you imagine one day waking up with an X over your head and just watching it become brighter as the time ticks by? That sounds torturous but then there are people who have one and don’t know it and just totally waste their life away thinking they have plenty of time… I honestly don’t know which path is better…”

The German was looking at his brother now, well not really at him… looking over him, looking at the glowing shape above his head.

“Hey, Klaus?”

Said teen shook off his plaguing memories and bitter thoughts, focusing on his brother’s eyes as they looked at him earnestly. “Yeah?” he breathed.

“If any of us ever have an X above our heads, would you tell us?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. We need to be better siblings, don’t you think?” Ben chuckled lightly, “Luther wouldn’t want to die being known as a punchline for incest jokes.”

Klaus smiled, his gaze tired and broken but Six couldn’t see it in the dim lighting of the forest. They always had a thing for dark humor; it was their schtick. It was the best way for them to filter out the wrongness of having your first kill by the age of twelve.

“That’s so true,” he muttered dazedly, “But I wouldn’t want them to become paranoid, I wouldn’t want them to worry; I just want them to be happy in their last days.”

“Would you tell me?”

The simple question, said light-heartedly and without any accusation, felt like a blow straight to Klaus’s heart. If his brother knew, would he possibly feel guilty and fate would be changed? Or would the countdown speed up ten-fold? 

He didn’t want to lie, he didn’t want to tell the truth. Neither one had a good outcome.

Fate would always get her way.

He settled on a vague, “We tell each other everything, right?”

Ben smiled warmly, but there was a darkness in his eyes that Four could see from a mile away. 

In the outer-edge of his vision, he could have sworn that the mark glowed a little brighter. “R-Right, Benny?”

He wanted the confirmation, even though he knew that it was pointless. He was desperate to hear his brother state that he trusted him, that they didn’t hide things from each other. That it was them against the world, that Klaus wasn’t a failure, that he gave it his all, that he- he tried his best… Believe that he tried his best.

He was a hypocrite. 

“Of course, Klaus.” Four’s gaze settled on the X above Ben's head almost subconsciously now. Reluctantly, he’d admit that it reminded him of a star.

> **_‘_ ** **_Cordially yours,’_ **

“Good.”

> **_‘-Ben Hargreeves’_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will only post the first chapter for now until I know that this something people might be interested in reading the rest of.  
> After planning out the course of the story, this work should be about 14 chapters long.


	2. Fire in Thine Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma's a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and ready to give you more! I've never gotten so many comments on one chapter before lol.  
> So a little heads-up: ~^~ is like a timeskip/scene skip while ~⋎~ is a vision  
> As you can tell, Klaus has PTSD so every chapter will have some flashbacks so bold italics will be memories.

Darkness blanketed every crevice. The lights were off, the door was closed, an eidolon and apparitions danced around the room. Overhead, a thin horizontal window accompanied the dull walls; it was just thick enough to allow a sliver of moonlight to pierce through the devouring shadows. The room was relatively quiet for being in the middle of a big noisy city. 

The average person would have heard the gentle thrum of the radiator and the anxious drumming of fingers against the bedpost. They would have heard the constant buzz of the night-goers upon the urban streets and the steady breathing of an elderly man within a deep sleep.

They wouldn’t have heard the angry woman standing in the corner cursing her child’s name while a pair of scissors protrudes from her eye.

They wouldn’t have heard the middle-aged guy standing at the doorway whining about wanting a drink while a broken bottle hangs from his hand and a syrupy substance bubbles from his mouth.

They wouldn’t have heard the little girl phasing in and out of the wall asking for her mother while strangulation marks littered her neck.

They wouldn’t have heard the sad superpowered ghost sitting at the foot of the bed occasionally stringing together considerate but utterly useless words of encouragement.

They wouldn’t have heard the moaning, groaning, screaming, wailing, crying, whining, pleading, and shrieking of the dead.

It would have just been a normal night in the rehab facility if the man wasn’t anything but ~~ordinary~~.

He couldn’t sleep, not with all the stimulus around him.

He opens his eyes and all he sees are the sharp outlines of the scarce furniture and the subtle silhouettes of the plentiful ghosts. 

He uncovers his ears and all he hears are the slowly-rising-in-volume screeches and the quickly-falling-on-deaf-ears advice of his brother. 

He unplugs his nose and all he smells are the distinct stench of death and the sterile scent of the bedsheets.

He uncurls his body and all he feels is the ghastly chill of the spectrals wandering around the room and the sweaty heat of withdrawal.

It was all too much and attention from the living was all too little. He longed to be on the streets again, he longed to be free from this dark chamber. 

He wanted more baggies pushed into his hands and more nasty words muttered into his ears. He wanted to be pushed roughly against a wall and have a hot tongue against his throat as the warm hum of alcohol and drugs shoves out all the other thoughts in his head. He wanted to be looking for some food in a dumpster as his phantom sibling shakes his head at his lame jokes.

He wanted out, let him out. ~~_I’ll be good, Dad, please justopenthedoor._ ~~

His fingers drum faster.

Slowly but surely, pale beams of sunlight began to lick their way into the small room, casting off the darkness and giving the window an ethereal glow. His gaze is drawn to the light much like a moth’s would be to a lantern; it’s an assuring sign that he only had a few more hours to go.

He swirls his free hand into the sheets, gripping a fistful with white knuckles before releasing it to start the whole process over again. He wanted to remember the soft silky texture of the sheets; when was the last time he got the pleasure of feeling a bed upon the bare and delicate skin of his hands? He wasn’t sure, definitely not since his days at the academy.

Hook up beds were one thing, but being graced with another presence upon the mattress would never really give rise to an opportunity of peaceful slumber. And although they thought he was strange for taking everything off willingly except the gloves, he could now confidently attest that contact with any other part of his body would not trigger his secondary power. He didn’t need his hands anyway; he learned early on that all he needed was an eager mouth and a nearly ~~non-existent~~ gag reflex (the trick was to squeeze your thumb tightly against your palm to divert the attention of stimulus).

Sometimes he wished to feel it all though, even just for a blissful second, so he could store away the touch into the depths of his memory; much like he longed to feel the lush, itchy, dampness of grass upon his fingers or the knobbly fibrousness of tree bark or the satiny frailness of a flower petal. He dreamed of days where he could feel the downy feathers of a baby bird or the velvety fur of a kitten; people didn’t usually take it too well when he rubbed his face upon a small animal just to get some sense of touch (his allergies didn’t particularly like it either). But there were also times where the desire to feel a certain leather jacket and a familiar black hoodie completely overcame the want to touch something _living_. 

A few more spirits joined the entourage, these ones louder and deeper into despair. They have yet to learn his name but they beg and plead for answers and justice.

_“Why didn’t you help us? You could have warned us. Who killed us? How did we die? Why are we dead? Why can’t they see us? BRING US BACK. YOU ARE SELFISH. YOU ARE GREEDY. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?”_

A wry smile graces his features. He remembers his first time; denial and curiosity were common among the newly dead.

> **_“Do you know where you are?”_ **
> 
> **_The boy takes a half-assed glance at his surroundings. “I thought my dream world would look nicer.”_ **
> 
> **_“Is that what you think you’re doing right now? Sleeping?”_ **
> 
> **_“I was knocked out, wasn’t I?”_ **
> 
> **_“Believe what you wish, I don’t have the time for your naive optimism.”_ **

It always takes a while before the questions and demands stop coming; their humanity trickles away from them and they become nothing more than grieving, howling shells. They all go to the afterlife at some point, but many have too many vendettas and ties left on the mortal realm to want to stay; alas, once they become wandering souls, they slowly forget those ties, they forget their reason for returning in the first place. They only know the craving for something, they only remember the feelings that made them want to live. They drown in them and forget that there is an afterlife to return to; ~~God wouldn't want them back anyway~~. Of course, it was always easier to remember your purpose for leaving the monochrome utopia when you actually had some form of contact with them. 

> **_“Am I dead?”_ **
> 
> **_“Unfortunately for me, yes.”_ **
> 
> **_“How?”_ **
> 
> **_“What do you mean how? You were literally bashing your head against the wall for hours; what did you think was going to happen?”_ **

He pities them at times; the ghosts didn’t ask to die. And some were so desperate… so sad and pained that fate thought it would be best for them to kill themselves. They needed help and he wasn’t able to help them, he didn’t know _how_ to help them. You can only help a person that wants it, trying to instill a desire to live in those that don’t want change only makes you feel more guilty when they die. But what makes him feel guilty is not the fact that he made them feel like they had no reason to stay (he tried his best to be a good person, ~~some people just don’t like him~~ ; some suffering is beyond what a simple kid could do), it was because he felt guilty for not warning them of the even worse pain you feel when you’re dead: the pain of regret. 

> **_“There’s never a mark over my head, I never see visions of my own death… I thought that meant I couldn’t die.”_ **
> 
> **_“Such rudimentary thinking for someone who sees so much; did you ever think it was because we don’t wish to waste our time devising a plan for you?”_ **
> 
> **_“Why not?”_ **
> 
> **_“Because I can’t stand the fact that you try to meddle with the process; you’re not supposed to see any of it yet you do and that makes you a cheater. I don’t want you here with me, I don’t want to see your face; why put in the effort to kill someone you hate when you’ll just be stuck with them for all eternity?”_ **

He tells himself not to dwell on the past. People come and go; it’s a process he has no control over. He just learned to stop getting attached to people. He shuts himself off from real feelings and affection. He can’t touch them with his hands and they can’t touch him with their hearts. He’s numb to love, ~~he cares for no one~~ (He has always been bad at lying to himself). 

> **_“So I can die…?”_ **
> 
> **_“By your own accord, yes. We have no part of what stupid decisions you decide to make.”_ **

He pushes people away because if they get too close, he might unintentionally seal their fate. The last person he valued above all else fell victim to the game ~~and~~ ~~it was all his fault~~ _._ He will not make the same mistake again, he knows better now; cheaters don’t get a turn.

> **_“Just know that if one day you decide to kill yourself, I will send you to a place a lot less pleasant.”_ **
> 
> **_“Didn’t I technically kill myself today?”_ **
> 
> **_“This is a warning, child. I don’t want you here and if you arrive before your time, I will march your soul right down to that mausoleum myself. Would you like to spend eternity as a ghost with all of your favorite ghosts?”_ **
> 
> **_“I-I don’t think you can do that… We all have a right to the afterlife…”_ **
> 
> **_“And you have ties, do you not? Tell me: do you think your brother would be so willing to leave all of your siblings behind just to stay in the afterlife with you?”_ **

“Hey… you good, man?” Ben asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Klaus opened his mouth to speak but his tongue felt like sandpaper; the words weren’t forming and his breaths were coming out heavier so he just closed it and nodded his head.

“Withdrawal or…?”

The medium just squeezed his eyes shut and gave a long exhale. _‘Relax, you need to relax’._

“Klaus?”

> **_“You… You put the X over his head…” the child stared in horror before he seethed, “To what? To blackmail me?!”_ **

The ghost’s expression softened as he noticed his brother begin to murmur to himself and that his eyes were moving rapidly beneath the lids. He knew exactly what was happening now: Four was trapped in a memory. 

“Don’t fight it, Klaus,” he advised sadly, having watched the panic attacks many times before, “Let it wash over you.”

> **_The small girl gave a sardonic smirk and looked at him pitifully. “Yes, he’s depressed and I’m just taking advantage of it. Incentive for you to stay alive because you’ll either be stuck here away from him or stuck in the mausoleum with no hope of escape. Stay out of here and stay out of my way. Watch your brother die and remember that you have no power here; cheaters don’t get a turn.”_ **

“I’m good,” the man breathed, opening his eyes and giving a shaky smile, “Don’t frown so much, Bennifer; you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

~^~

“Sign here, Mr.Hargreeves-” 

Klaus and Ben shared a look, the ghost dry-heaving and the man shivering in disgust.

“Just Klaus is fine, my dear. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m my daddy, right?”

He signs the release forms and then sighs in relief; he was finally free to go! He skips down the hall to his living quarters to grab his few belongings.

“Leavin’ so soon?” an older man’s voice calls out from the other side of the room.

Klaus spins around to face him with a dazzling grin, “Well you know me: places to go, people to see. The court couldn’t keep me in here another day even if they tried.”

The elder bobbed his head, used to his roomie’s antics after the three days they spent together.

> He honestly pitied the young soul, it was clear that much trauma had shaped his path and got him stuck down this self-destructive road early on. From what the boy has said, and he tended to talk a lot, he’s been here six times now and not once has his family shown up to support him. The senior could only assume that they pay to have him thrown in but are never there to pick him up when he gets out. He was much too skinny and quite obviously homeless, most likely relying on prostitution to survive. It was clear that something wasn’t quite right with him: he tended to flinch out of nowhere or have one-sided conversations with himself, not to mention an awful case of insomnia. The kid was bizarre, yes, but he had a kind heart and he needed help. He had so much to live for, so much untapped potential… but everyone had already written him off as a lost cause, including the boy himself. So young yet so broken; the older gentleman often wonders what had to happen for such a child to get this way. 

“The court sent you here ‘cus you have a problem, kid. And if you don’t think it’s fixed yet, I don’t think you should leave,” he urged thoughtfully, peering at the flamboyant young man with all-knowing eyes, “I’ve been ‘round the block a few times; addictions only get worse the older you get.”

Klaus’s expression slipped into a sad smile. “I’m afraid the problems I have go far beyond their level of expertise… or anyone’s for that matter,” he replied cryptically before glancing at the X above the elder’s head, “I’ll see ya around Mr. Bobby; lemme know if you ever want to get back to being an alcoholic, I’d buy you a drink.” 

Bobby just shook his head with a chuckle. “You stay how of trouble, Klaus, ya hear? I don’t wanna see no court order tossing you back in here.”

Four just laughed and waved good-bye; he didn’t have the heart to tell him that disappointment was his middle name. 

“Klaus.”

“Hm?”

“He’s right, you know,” Six commented, following a few steps behind him, “You got food, water, plumbing, a roof over your head… maybe it’d be best if you stay-”

“Don’t, Ben,” he interrupted, bristled, “I don’t need this from you right now.”

The spirit fell silent. 

“Hey, Mary, honey?” the man called out, rounding the corner into the reception area, “Have you seen some really long black gloves? I thought they were with my things but I guess I must have misplaced them…”

“Uh, no, I haven’t Mr. Har- I mean- Klaus. Have you checked lost and found?” 

Klaus glared at her in irritation. “Gee, thanks for the help,” he mumbled bitterly before turning back down the hall; he didn’t really pay attention to ~~the shifting above her head.~~

“That was rude, Klaus. She was trying her best-”

“Oh put a sock in it, Benji, I would like to leave this hell hole alre-” he stopped as he saw a broad man wearing a wife-beater near the exit of the facility with a pair of gloves in his hand. 

“Hey, you!” Four shouted, running to catch up to him.

“Get lost, fag.”

The medium’s nose scrunched up in anger and disgust. “Give me back my gloves, asshole.”

“These gloves?” The man waved them through the air, “Last I checked, it’s finders keepers. I think my girlfriend would look nice in these, no?”

“I said,” Klaus spat, bringing his arms back in preparation to shove him (he was too furious to register the sudden alarm in his brother’s voice behind him), “give them back!”

His palms pushed harshly into the man’s chest without a second thought, the ecstatic tingling spreading through his fingers the only warning he got before he was thrust into another reality.

~⋎~

There’s a smell of mildew that assails his nostrils as he slowly comes to. He can distantly hear the sound of traffic and honking of horns; maybe he was near a highway or something? He slowly opens his eyes to a drab apartment. Klaus wrinkles his nose at the dreary interior and stale air; the only source of light was a foggy window on the other side of the room. He pushes himself up off the floor and dusts off the grime from his pants. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what happened or how he got here, but he decided that he should probably look around before the floor gave him seven different types of diseases.

He could hear movement down the hall; he supposes he should start there.

Klaus walks towards what he can only assume is a bedroom, a whistling tune filling his ears the closer he gets to the open door. His feet make no noise as they travel across the filthy carpet, he feels drawn to the warm light flooding from the doorway. As he goes, his eyes scan the walls for any sign of a time frame or date; all he had was the orange glow from the window that suggested it was either close to sunrise or sundown. Overall, nothing of use.

He enters the bedroom and sees the man from earlier (wearing no shirt this time) with his back to him. Klaus has no reflection in the mirror in front of the man as he admires himself. It was an almost comical sight to see a big buff dude with a bald head and more tattoos than the medium could count trying on his- his gloves?! 

The guy slips the black velvety gloves over his hands and flaunts in the mirror; it takes all of Four’s willpower to not burst into laughter while simultaneously bashing his head into the glass for taking his gloves and then lying about having a girlfriend. 

_‘Aw how sad… he’s a gay in denial,’_ the medium cooed to himself, _‘Fucking hypocrite had the nerve to call me a fag too…’_

There was a sudden rumbling noise that made both Klaus and the other man jump.

“What the fuck was that?” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the mirror to approach the window within the bedroom.

The medium watched as the thief threw it open and looked outside. There was a louder rumbling like an explosion had gone off farther into the city. 

Four ran to the window as well, looking over the man’s shoulder as he watched a white beam be shot up into the dark sky. The highway above them blocked out what the beam hit exactly, but from the deeper grumbling sounding through the sky, he knew that whatever it made impact with was important. 

He took a few steps back away from the window, unsure of how the man was going to die and baffled by the shouts of alarm that rose from around the city. What the hell was going on? How was this man going to die? Where did the white cylinder of light and explosions come from? How did they affect him?

The quick scrambling backward of the man startled Klaus. “Shit!” He shouted in terror, running right through his form towards the hallway. Four’s brow furrowed as he approached the window again, looking out just in time to see a blazing inferno swallow everything in its wake. 

He screamed.

~^~

Klaus stumbled back with a gasp, ripping his hands away like he had been burned. 

“Klaus?” he heard a voice call from behind him, “Woah, dude, what happened? Are you okay?”

The medium wasn’t listening, his eyes wide in fear as he stared at the glowing X above the man’s head.

“What? Not so tough now?” he sneered, puffing out his chest and clenching his jaw.

“I-I…” he swallowed around the lump in his throat, shaking his head before croaking out, “Keep them. I’ll let karma take care of you.”

And with that, he turned swiftly on his heels and strode towards the double doors in the reception area.

“Klaus? What about your gloves?”

He didn’t stop, he kept moving down the hall. 

“Hey, Mr. Harg- Klaus I mean Klaus… Did you find what you were looking for?”

Four spared her a split-second glance, his eyes passing over the gleaming X crowning her hair before he squeezed them shut and quickened his pace towards the door.

He blindly pushed it open, unprepared for the solid mass he ran into. He instinctively threw up his hands to shove it away; a shock of electricity ran through his body.

~⋎~

The ground felt cold beneath him, the distinct odor of asphalt tickled his nose.

He sat up and looked around, seeing that he was in the middle of the street. 

A woman and her child walked along the sidewalk, the little girl giggling as she swung her mother’s hand back and forth. Klaus almost smiled at the ~~touching~~ moment, he knew better than to expect anything good from a foresight such as this. 

His eyes travel upwards, seeing that a few stars sprinkled the sky as if the sun had just set not too long ago. He stands and glances around, unsure of who exactly he ran into but decided that it must have been the mother based on the height of the mass. 

In the distance, he suddenly hears the dull ringing of bullets and a deep rumbling. 

The duo freezes, the daughter squeaking out, “What was that, Mommy?”

Klaus’s mouth goes dry as he hears the rumble again, followed by the distinct crashing of rubble. He looks up to see the bright beam of white light, only a lot closer this time, rip through the dark sky. The sudden shouting of people within the streets distracts him from seeing the moment the light makes impact, but roaring in the atmosphere pulls his eyes in the direction of the…

The moon?

He flinches violently as the rock explodes, pieces breaking off and hurling themselves towards the planet at an alarming speed. Chaos erupts around him, some people running, others looking up at the sky in horror. The mother picks up her child and runs for cover. The ground shakes and Klaus fumbles for his balance just before a blinding wave of fire washes over everything in sight.

~^~

“Fuck,” Klaus hissed, tearing away from the woman before she could even say anything. He staggered forward a few feet, taking deep breaths. His lungs burned and his skin itched, everything felt dry and the air tasted acidic; it was like the fire was still there, still devouring the buildings and the people like they were tinder. 

“Klaus, what the fuck has gotten into you? What’s wrong?” He hears Ben question, his incorporeal hands hovering just above his own. 

The man raises his head, blinking at the ghost’s face just inches in front of his own. He sees the concern twisting his brother’s features but he can’t focus on answering; something else has caught his attention. 

He licks his all too dry lips as he subconsciously steps forward, passing through Ben without a second thought. He stares, wide-eyed, at the people filling the streets, at the people walking on the sidewalk, at the people driving cars, at the people looking out windows… all living normal lives, all blissfully unaware of the cruel fate that awaits them.

Klaus swallows thickly and, shakily, pats his pockets out of the habit of grabbing something to numb his pain. Of course, he comes up empty. He runs a hand through his hair as tears prick the corners of his eyes.

“Please, just talk to me…” Ben mumbles at his side, almost desperately, “Are you alright?”

He bites his lip, painfully so, as passersby walk around him and gawk like he’s the spectacle to see.

**_“Could you imagine one day waking up with an X over your head and just watching it become brighter as the time ticks by?_ **”

He wants to close his eyes, he wants to run away, but the sight had him entranced; for once, he wished that this reality was just a flicker (It had always been a fear of his that the whole life he was living was just a long vision and one day he’d wake up to see that none of it had happened yet).

**_“That sounds torturous but then there are people who have one and don’t know it and just totally waste their life away thinking they have plenty of time…”_ **

“Klaus…?”

**_“Hey, Klaus?”_ **

He tastes blood on his tongue.

**_“If any of us ever have an X above our heads, would you tell us?”_ **

“Breathe… You need to breathe,” The ghost said more sternly, his brow furrowed as he observed Klaus’s face.

**_“Would you tell me?”_ **

A hysterical laugh rips from Klaus’s throat as he leers upon the picture-perfect cosmos that painted humanity, almost squinting against the intensity of each shining star that flowed through the asterism of traffic. For a brief moment, he glances above his own head ~~hopefully~~ , only to be met with the same sight he has seen for more than twenty-nine years. 

“This is really messed up, huh?” he chuckled wryly to himself, “I-I’m… I need…”

“Hey, talk to me. You good? What do you need?” Ben whispered, his gaze apprehensive.

Four turned to him with a watery grin and crazed eyes. “I need a shit load of drugs.”

**_“Remember that you have no power here; cheaters don’t get a turn.”_ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. The very first chapter is CRITICAL to the rest of the plot. It is referenced a lot because it shapes the entire story. (The mentioned mausoleum trip and Klaus describing Ben's X as a star were literally foreshadowing for this chapter)
> 
> So... cue overdose scene?


	3. A Matter of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hargreeves are optimists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while, huh? Anyone still read this?
> 
> This is shorter than the other two; although it's an au of season one, I don't think anybody would want to read my play-by-play version of every cannon scene that takes place. I only included parts that would be different from the original so it won't be such a tedious read:)

He said he was never going to come back here; he never thought there would be a reason to. But here he is, back  _ here _ : the place where it all began. He knows that he should go inside but his legs don’t seem to want to move. Was it wrong to feel this nervous about going into the house you grew up in? Definitely; there is  _ definitely _ something wrong with that. A normal home would be a welcoming sight, a normal family would be a comforting thought. But he has never been normal and his family was anything but ordinary (sorry Vanya but not really). 

It would just be a quick visit: in and out, stay for the ceremony and then high-tail it out of there. Then he would never have to show up again for a long while (he’s hoping that at least; but after today’s events, he’s not so sure).

The only time this family “reunites” is for weddings and funerals. He wasn’t invited to Allison’s wedding (quite  _ rude _ if he might add) and since he can’t really see any of his other family members getting married any time soon, the threat of returning in white instead of black was very far back in his mind. (Like they ever would: Luther’s in love with his married sister, Diego’s denser than Dwanye Johnson’s pecs, Vanya’s about as interesting as a game of golf without a ball, Five has been MIA for seventeen years, Grace’s a robot, Ben’s deader than a doornail, and Reginald was even more dead than Ben (now both physically and emotionally). It was honestly more realistic for Allison to get divorced and then  _ remarried _ before any of the rest of them settled down; but he wouldn’t be invited to that one either, huh?). So unless he, himself, decides to get married (which was never going to happen because  _ ew commitment) _ there would be no reason to gather on a day of love and joy. (Well, unless, it’s Reginald’s funeral; he was actually quite happy that their lovely Papa had kicked the bucket; it would have only been better if he had seen the crotchety old man’s death with his own eyes. He would  _ gladly  _ remove gloves for that spectacle). 

So with weddings out of the question, funerals were the next best thing because the only thing Klaus enjoyed more than watching two suckers sign their freedom away was watching a  _ bunch _ of suckers turn a day of mourning into a narcissism fest. Funerals were fun, in his personal unbiased opinion: he liked seeing people pretend that they cared for and cherished the deceased; he liked witnessing the chaos that ensues as everybody turns on each other in a blame game to throw the guilt off themselves; he liked listening to people tell sob stories about how that person changed their life and made them a better version of themselves while said ghost sits there and rolls their eyes (they smell the bullshit; he likes to join in the dramatics as well- sue him).

Death was a relative term to him; there were just people and  _ untouchable _ people, scary beings and  _ scarier _ beings. He didn’t have to cope with grief and loss when he could summon them on a whim. So the whole dark, depressing, funeral vibe was kind of lost on him; he never really knew how the average person may feel at one (he was never  _ ever _ going to be ordinary). Even at Ben’s funeral,  _ his own brother for god’s sake _ , he did not shed a single tear. Of course, he did have a month to prepare himself for the unfortunate event and while his brother/best friend being dead wasn’t exactly ideal, he knew that Ben would come to his call in a heartbeat. And with a wee bit of alcohol to drown out the medium’s guilt at failing to save his dear brother and a smidge of cigarette smoke to ease the self-pity he felt for having such an awful secondary power, call him he did; and off they went, causing mischief like siblings do, as if nothing ever happened. So  _ yes _ , funerals weren’t exactly bothersome to him;  _ yes _ , he found some sick enjoyment in them;  _ yes _ , he’s a bit fucked up in the head.

But that point aside, him and his siblings weren’t a day over thirty so their funerals were realistically quite far into the future (unless Diego keeps up his vigilante crime-fighting spree or if Luther battles some moon aliens or if Allison attracts some overly zealous fans or if Vanya plays the wrong note at a symphony and offends the ghost of Mozart or if the man finally overdoses or if they all are burned alive in a fiery apocalypse- well maybe the thought train should halt here…).

Anyways, besides the  _ obvious _ family members, Grace was a robot so she wouldn’t die unless Reggie (who is now unable to for blatant reasons) decided to turn her off. Robots can’t age; she won’t die like a normal person. And then that leaves Pogo, a literal monkey butler; what if he were to bite the dust too? How long do chimps live? Ah, knowing dear old dad, Pogo is probably modified to withstand the threshold of time; he’s got to be ancient already so what’s another ten, twenty years? (If they even have that long…)

So, ideally, this should be a quick visit and then he could be on his merry way until the world ends. Weddings and funerals… Would it be wrong to say that he’d rather stop beating around the bush and hold his own funeral just so he wouldn't have to come back to this godforsaken house ever again? Would it be so wrong to say that if everyone else gets to die, he should be able to too? 

He almost wants to laugh at how messed up his head is, at how messed up their entire family is. The only sibling he has talked to in the last-  _ what... seven- ten years? _ \- is the dead one; that has to be some proof of the shitshow he calls life. It’s perfectly reasonable to be nervous right now; it is perfectly reasonable to dread facing his family again (for most likely the last time) after they dismissed him as junkie scum on the bottom of their shoe for nearly eleven years. Hell, they’d be nervous to see him too after hearing what his crappy powers revealed to him today. Come to think of it, they don’t really know much about his other power… Would they even believe him if he said anything? Should he even say anything?

> **“Well, you should. We need to be better siblings, don’t you think? Luther wouldn’t want to die being known as a punchline for incest jokes-”**

He waves off the memory, shaking his head as he glanced to his side to see if his ghostly brother had returned yet. He had not.

_ ‘Hm… I guess he’s still mad.’ _

It was reasonable to be angry though so Klaus couldn’t blame him; no overdose victim would want to watch their living brother play the same tune on death’s door. And, the man will admit, it was a  _ little _ selfish to try and off himself before confirming that his family was sporting the same glowing crown that the rest of the city was. Or maybe it was wishful thinking… Maybe he was  _ just _ tired, or maybe  _ slightly _ depressed… The mind tells us to do crazy things that won’t necessarily make sense to anyone including ourselves; so, Ben can stop getting his panties in a wad. He’ll get over it. He  _ always _ gets over it (and comes running right back to his side because he knows that deep down, Klaus fears his own death just as much as he does). 

He releases a heavy sigh and wrings his hands.  _ ‘Just walk in and get it over with…’ _

Yet, he still stares at the front door timidly and doesn’t move a muscle. He was a little shaky at the moment; whether it be from his recent revival or seeing a couple more visions on his way over here, he’s not entirely sure. 

Who was waiting on the other side of that door? Was his father’s ghost in there? Was he high enough to deal with his dysfunctional family? 

Definitely not but overdosing before his siblings die didn’t seem like the answer to his problems; he’s just got to suck it up and deal until the time comes. Maybe he’ll stick to cigarettes and alcohol for a little while… That would make Ben happier too, right?

_ ‘First order of business: find some gloves,’ _ he told himself, swallowing his nerves and marching up to the front door. He threw it open with a dramatic flair, the fake smile reflexively dawning his features; the gloves may guard his powers but the mask of blithe guards his heart. 

“Sup bitches!” he chirped, strolling into the main room with his hands high in the air.

He didn’t see anyone at first, secretly relieved until he heard an exasperated sigh from near the fireplace.

“Good afternoon, Master Klaus,” Pogo greeted with a less than thrilled nod of his head, “It’s nice to see that you are as lively as ever.”

Klaus’s expression slipped for only a brief moment, lowering his hands to where they hovered readily above his pockets. “Oh, uh, hey Pogo.” The reply came out meeker than he wanted it to, eyeing the X above their family friend’s head was a bitter thought to accept. He had a very small, quickly dimming hope that the others wouldn’t look the same.

“I take it rehab went well?” The ape asked, raising a brow curiously at the man’s sudden change of demeanor. 

The medium flapped his hand dismissively; “Ah yes well, you see, I have decided that sobriety is overrated. Life is short, after all; we might as well live it to the fullest, right?”

Pogo gave him that gaze borderline disappointment and pity; his mouth twisted into a frown as he took notice of Klaus’s fidgety fingers tracing the opening of his pocket.

“Your body seems sober but your mind seems clouded; is something the matter, Master Klaus?”

The man blinked in surprise, temporarily caught off guard by the question. The only person who was ever concerned enough to ask something like that was Ben; he never expected Pogo, of all people, to care.

He recovered his mask and gave a forced grin. “Well, they did have to pump the bad trip from my system so that could explain the slight withdrawal. But other than that, I’m absolutely peachy.”

His eyes darted from the X to the ape’s face and then back to the X again. It was really hard to focus on the words being said without anything buffering his racing thoughts. Surely some nicotine will solve the inconvenience; if he remembers correctly, there should be an old pack of cigarettes in his sock drawer. 

“I bet that Miss Allison or Miss Grace have some gloves you can borrow; they should be upstairs,” he said with a sad smile yet peering eyes, “The others should be here soon.”

His mask wavered again; was he really that obviously panicked? Perhaps Pogo just knew him too well. 

Perhaps relatively sober Klaus isn’t as slick as he thought. Oh well, it solved one of his problems, right? 

“Thanks, Pogo, dear!” he cooed at the ape’s retreating form before racing to his sister’s extensive closet.

~^~

The man held up two pairs of gloves: one was a pale pink that went to his wrists while the other was sleek black, reaching just shy of his elbows and adorned with lace trim. 

He liked them both for different reasons; the black was more his style but the pink felt cooler on the hands. 

“Black,” a voice mutters from behind him. 

Klaus stiffens at the noise but then a relieved smile eases onto his face. "That's such a  _ you _ answer," he chuckles airily, turning around to face the ghost, "What if I wanted to wear the pink ones?"

Ben's hands were in his pockets and his face was blank within his hood. He just raised an eyebrow, as if asking, 'Do  _ you _ want to wear the pink ones?'

Klaus blinked a few times and then grimaced at the awkwardness that fell between them. Knowing he wasn't going to get anything else out of him, the medium turned back around and tossed the pink gloves aside. "No…" he mumbled in reply. Sometimes Ben was about as interesting as a brick wall; actually, no, walls were fun to be pressed against… Ben was about as interesting as a speck of dust. And sure, Ben was probably still mad at him but at least Klaus was trying to lighten the mood. 

Four has never been one for apologies: whether giving them or receiving them. But he did feel bad about things and he filtered that guilt through humor and teasing. He was a little more reserved, not as reckless but quick to crack a joke if he felt uncomfortable; the easiest way to a person’s heart was to make them laugh after all… Receiving an apology made him act out and deflect because it was so much easier to brush things off instead of making it awkward. He didn't like to think about his problems, he didn't like to get locked up in his headspace; nothing ever good came from it.

Instead, he lets it and the memories and the trauma wash over him like a wave. And when he resurfaces from the sea of voices both in his head and assailing his ears, he acknowledges that he has drifted a little further away from shore but he makes no move to swim (he doesn't know if he'll make it, he doesn't want to risk trying). Instead, he puts on another life jacket of drugs and alcohol to keep him afloat. The ocean is dark, ominous, and consuming; he doesn't want to think about what would happen if he braced the currents stripped of his coping mechanisms. He knows that he'll drown but the question is for how long it'll be until the light of the little girl upstairs pulls him out. 

It's a scary thought; the mind is a scary place. 

He ignores the tension weighing down on his shoulders, slipping on the black gloves and taking a look at himself in Allison’s mirror. He stares at the pale, gaunt face looking back at him; red-rimmed eyes and smudged week-old eyeliner. Ben watches him in the corner, his mouth a thin line and irises dark and cloudy. Klaus shifts and has to avert his gaze as he remembers the tattooed man innocently flaunting his stolen gloves in the mirror before being consumed by flames. 

Hm… perhaps Allison has a few skirts to spare too.

  
  


~^~

“So… Are we gonna talk about what happened back there?”

Klaus plopped down in the leather chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk and putting his hands behind his head. “Whatever do you mean, Benny boy?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Klaus. You saw  _ something,  _ I know you did. And since I didn’t see it, I know that it didn’t have to do with the dead.”

“You’re right, it had to do with the living; you wouldn’t know because  _ you’re _ dead,” the man said back flippantly.

Ben crossed his arms, unamused. “That may have worked thirteen years ago, but it doesn’t now. Get some new material and stop deflecting.”

“New material?” Klaus scoffs in faux offense, “Are you implying that I’m predictable?”

The ghost opened his mouth to reply but stopped as the door to the office swung open and Klaus’s attention was immediately lost.

“Klaus?”

“Allison!” he cheers, slight uncertainty to his voice as his nerves from earlier resurfaced, “How g-good to see you!”

He gulps.  _ ‘Don’t look above her head. Don’t look above her head…’ _

“What are you doing in here?” She asks suspiciously. There was an awkward smile on her face as well. 

“I swear I wasn’t stealing,” he immediately defends, his eyes darting to the glowing for a split second before he can even register that he was doing it.

_ ‘Shit.’  _ It was bright, just like the rest of them… He stares above his own head for a few moments (was it really too much to ask for  _ something _ to be there?) before there’s a snapping in his face.

“She’s talking to you, idiot.”

“Oh shoot,” he faces her; she seems irritated and slightly disappointed. The  _ look  _ spoke volumes:  _ are you high right now Klaus?  _ He frowns. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Allison sighs, leaning on their father’s desk. “I asked what you’ve been up to.”

He winks. “I think we  _ both  _ already know the answer to that, sister dear.”

  
  
  


“Are those my gloves?”

~^~

“Ah, I wish I could have seen it, Old Man,” he stubs his cigarette on the ashes, a wry smile on his face, “Maybe I would have returned sooner… Maybe I would have done a lot of things. At least I get to be here during their dwindling time without you.”

Ben is watching him intently; he can feel it.

“You notice how I’m always the last one to leave a funeral?” Klaus asks.

His brother stays quiet for a couple of minutes longer before mumbling, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

The wryness fades, exhaustion gripping his soul as he looks back at him. “Isn’t there always?”

  
  


~^~

“Where have you been?” Diego breathes as they hover around their long lost brother still within his childhood body. It was almost like he never even left.

“The future. It’s horrible by the way.”

Klaus bites his lip, eyes peering at his brother’s face. 

“The world ends in eight days unless I can figure out how to stop it.”

Eight days. They had eight days. That’s it? It didn’t make sense: spur of the moment moves weren’t typically God’s thing. She liked making the hash mark appear gradually, usually a month or two in advance so he can watch the timer tick down, so he can suffer longer. 

Why little more than a week? Why  _ everybody  _ all at the same time? Why does he still not have a mark?

He looks down at the counter. Yeah no, there was no stopping this. What did he want to do before the world ends? Drinks? Drugs? Clubs? So many possibilities… Humanity was going to perish so maybe he should take advantage of one last hook-up? 

He’s already walking towards the door before he can even fully come up with a plan.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Five hisses in a way that sounded oh-so-familiar; yes, this was definitely their brother. 

The medium stops and waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

Five crosses his arms and deadpans. “I know it’s difficult to believe but-”

  
  


Klaus glances back with his eyebrows raised, “No, I believe you a hundred percent.”

“Then why-”

“I’d just rather live my remaining days high off my ass than trying to prevent the inevitable,” the man admits nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders despite the glaring Xs above  _ almost  _ all of their heads. His eyes linger on Five a while longer than his brother was clearly comfortable with (Ben explained one time that on rare occasions, Klaus gets this gaze that seemed to stare straight through your soul and you can’t help but squirm). “But good luck with that apocalypse business, baby bro. Sit lunae dabit vobis.”

He turns back around and reaches for the door but a knife thuds into the frame. “You’re a coward,” Diego says with a pinning glare.

Klaus rolls his eyes. 

> **_“If any of us ever have a X above our heads, would you tell us?”_ **

It was so hard to focus on their faces with the blindingly white twinkles crowning their head. With a grim downturn of lips, Five’s pale flickering halo catches his attention just a little longer than the others’ marks. Why, exactly, was that one different? Maybe his eyes are deceiving him (the smart thing would be to double-check with his powers but he refuses to see his own siblings’ deaths… not again at least. Guilt and hopelessness was a hard wound to heal and he honestly has enough on his plate; another memory to haunt him would not be ideal). 

> **_“I wouldn’t want them to become paranoid, I wouldn’t want them to worry; I just want them to be happy in their last days.”_ **

Maybe he is a coward: Five came back to save them and all Klaus did was come back to say goodbye. But this is beyond him, beyond them. There is nothing their scary, little, time-traveling brother could do about this written fate. Why not just try to be happy in their remaining days? 

> **_“Would you tell me?”_ **

He refuses to look at Ben; he knows he’s there, standing in the corner with that stern face telling him to speak up. He knows that his brother’s disappointed that Klaus is, once again, hiding a future no one else knows about; one again, concealing the fact that they’re on an escalator to death’s door and it’s only a matter of time. 

> **_“We tell each other everything, right?”_ **

It isn't fair. But sometimes life isn’t fair. There is no rule book keeping fate in check; there are no morals to right and wrong. There is just the game and he is just the unlucky witness. What could he possibly do about anything when he couldn’t even stop Ben’s death:  _ one  _ person that he knew about  _ months  _ before?  _ This is billions of people, including the rest of his family, and he only has eight days.  _

“I know a lost cause when I see one,” he mutters, leaving the room to take a bath (God knows that he could use a lot more than that at the moment though). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Now that I've finished my other chaptered works, I thought that I should start dedicating some more time to this one; don't get me wrong, I do love this story and have it all planned out but it's just very tedious since season two already came out and I can't remember every single line or scene from season one(- < \- ')

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I'm sorry, is Ben your favorite character too? You thought this was gonna be warm and fluffy? Haha nahh


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